


Machine Run

by Make_It_Worse



Series: Brat Tamer [15]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - After College/University, BDSM, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Connor, Collars, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Is a Brat, Consent, Discipline, Dom/sub, Flirting, Fucking Machines, Hard Dom Hank Anderson, Jealousy, Leashes, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Possessive Hank Anderson, Punishment, Soft Ending, Teasing, Top Hank Anderson, because I can't be a feral gremlin without also being soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21877030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Make_It_Worse/pseuds/Make_It_Worse
Summary: “You know why this is happening?” Anderson asked casually while attaching the leash to the collar with a small clink.Connor’syeshad come out tight and quiet.“Yes,what?” Anderson punctuated the question with a sharp tug and Connor had jerked forward an inch or so.“Yes, sir.” Connor met Anderson’s gaze, hoping to imbue him with a shred of pity.At the first slide of the machine fucking into him, he doesn’t think his puppy dog eye routine had much of an effect.--Connor is in trouble, you see.This is part of an ongoing D/s series. Heed the tags. It falls somewhere between them getting engaged and getting married. Not necessarily linear with the last part of the series.Part 15.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Brat Tamer [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1472171
Comments: 10
Kudos: 215





	Machine Run

A depraved sound drifts down the hall, curling around Anderson’s ears like the softest of muffs. He could listen to the tune of Connor unraveling for hours. Anderson checks his watch; fifteen minutes had passed since he’d slipped out of the room and left Connor hogtied and aching. Probably worth checking in on the brat.

He’s treated to a delicious sight. Connor lies exactly how he left him, not that he had much control over the matter. Knees braced wide on the bed with his ass high in the air, his arms stretch out in front of him toward the headboard. Red silken ropes trace up his arms in crisscross patterns binding them together. The other end disappears under the pillows, secured to a hook Anderson personally installed under their box spring.

Connor tries to turn to look at Anderson when he hears the latch scrape against the door jamb. His head jerks as he’s forcibly reminded of the thin strip of leather hugging his neck. A slender leash hooks him by the O-ring and pulls taut where Anderson had wrapped it around one of the headboard posts before leaving. Sweat gleams across his slim shoulders and Anderson smiles a sinister grin Connor can’t see.

The gentle whir and muted clacking of the machine nearly drowns out Connor’s whimpered plea, “Sir, _please_.”

Anderson approaches from behind to watch, not ready to touch Connor just yet. If he touches him, his resolve may crack. How could Connor possibly learn his lesson if Anderson didn’t see his discipline through to the end?

He reaches for lube, drizzling more on the glistening toy currently pounding his fiancé into the mattress. It had been an expensive piece of equipment and took up far more room than he cared for, but in this moment, listening to Connor mewl and beg for mercy? Definitely worth the expense and the space.

“ _I’m sorry!_ ” Connor wails the words and Anderson reaches between his legs to run one thick finger through a puddle of come. He’d already gotten off once under Anderson’s watchful gaze and Anderson knew he was sensitive. His smile deepens with every overwhelmed twitch that shivers down Connor’s legs. Connor’s watching him as best he can given his limited field of vision. Anderson knows he’s hoping for a reprieve. He won’t be receiving it.

“Still another, I think.” Anderson watches Connor’s spine constrict. He needs encouragement. “Can you be good for me, Connor?” He runs a hand through Connor’s sweat-damp hair and he rolls beneath the first soft touch he’s received all evening. He tries to nod, but the collar around his neck restricts the attempt.

Connor knew he was in trouble well before they left the gala. The university had held a holiday party for the staff and it had been a pleasant evening. The food had been good and one of his colleagues had bought him a couple of drinks as Anderson made his rounds. He wasn’t anywhere near drunk, but he felt light and floaty as the carbonation in his drink.

He’d laid his hand on the adjunct professor’s arm as he laughed at his joke. He’d felt the fleeting touch of the man’s hand at his back as he pointed to one of the projector screens. It had taken up to that moment for Connor to realize the man was flirting with him and it felt…kind of nice. It was harmless, after all.

Based on Anderson’s thunderous glare at the man’s offending hand, he did not agree.

“Connor,” Anderson had approached quietly and Connor jumped clean off the ground in surprise. His lips nearly touched Connor’s ear as he whispered, “Who’s your _friend_.”

Connor recovered quickly, rapidly distancing himself from the man and stepping in side by Anderson. He made introductions and the conversation turned to a polite debate about some of the latest innovations in robotics. Connor relaxed as Anderson drew the man into deeper discussion, seemingly unperturbed by the over-familiarity he’d seen him display toward Connor.

The illusion shattered the moment they pulled up to their house. Anderson killed the engine and the planes of his body grew sharper in a way Connor had come to recognize as a harbinger of exquisite destruction.

“Go to our room. Get out the red box. Undress and wait for me, please.” The red box. It was a new addition and contained several attachments for the machine currently collapsed in their closet.

Trying to gauge what kind of evening he’s in for, he wound his fingers through Anderson’s, “Are you angry.”

Anderson gently disentangled his hand and gripped lightly at Connor’s chin, “Darling, do as I asked.”

Anticipation had writhed in his guts at that. His dick had swelled to half attention as he crouched low to drag the sturdy red container out from under their bed. The collar had been his own initiative. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what this was about. He knew where he belonged, but he’d hoped the sight of it would soothe the possessive beast that lived in Anderson’s chest.

Anderson’s harsh features blunted slightly as his fingertips reached under the collar to tug at it. Connor wanted to kiss him, but he refrained. He was fairly certain Anderson wouldn’t allow it until he was finished wrecking him.

“On the bed. Hands and knees.” His tone wasn’t mean and Connor wasn’t afraid, but nervousness coated him like a second skin. He hadn’t earned a punishment in a long, long time.

“You know why this is happening?” Anderson asked casually while attaching the leash to the collar with a small clink.

Connor’s _yes_ had come out tight and quiet.

“Yes, _what_?” Anderson punctuated the question with a sharp tug and Connor had jerked forward an inch or so.

“Yes, sir.” Connor met Anderson’s gaze, hoping to imbue him with a shred of pity.

At the first slide of the machine fucking into him, he doesn’t think his puppy dog eye routine had much of an effect. Though not as thick as Anderson, it’s girthy enough to have him drooling on the sheets within the minute. Anderson had slid an angled wedge under his chest for him to rest his weight on. Although it’s marketed purpose was for putting under the mattress to relieve snoring, they’d found more creative uses for it.

He’s grateful for it as the fleshy dildo attachment drove into him with mechanical precision. His wrists tugged in a subconscious effort to touch himself as the need for release built to aching.

“ _Sir_!” He’s straddling the precipice of an orgasm with embarrassing speed. He could feel Anderson’s eyes on him and he screamed when the rate of thrusts ticked up noticeably.

It was inhuman how hard and fast the thing was fucking him. He knew it couldn’t hurt him, that Anderson wouldn’t allow it, but he felt wild and delirious at the unforgiving onslaught of the toy battering against his prostate.

He’d babbled nonsense, begged for Anderson to touch him. Anderson’s shirt brushed against Connor’s shoulder when he leaned down to deliver a swift denial. Connor had known it would be too much to hope for, but he couldn’t help asking for Anderson’s touch.

“I don’t jerk off needy brats.” Connor twitched at the brutal finality of his words. “I’m surprised at you, Connor. Disappointed. Your behavior tonight was beyond unacceptable.”

“M-My behavior?” Confusion oozed down his spine and pleasure chased after it as Anderson increased the strength of the machine’s thrusts. “Fffuck.” He wanted to come, badly, but his confusion pushed back his orgasm.

“I’m not an idiot. I know people look at you. Hit on you.” Anderson tugged at the leash, looping it into place around the headboard, “I didn’t realize you _liked it_.” The image of his hand reaching out to touch his colleague dropped into the background of Connor’s mind and he groaned. He had been flirting; he knew it. He also knew Anderson reacted aggressively toward anyone who tried to make a move on Connor in front of him. He hadn’t considered the repercussions of returning the gesture, albeit not seriously.

“You know…you know I l- _ahh_ -love you.” It’s hard to concentrate, harder to talk in coherent sentences while red in the face with lust and the overwhelming need to get off.

“And you know I don’t share.” Anderson watched him pant through it like a bitch in heat, his face burning with desire and shame.

When he came with a shriek, Anderson slowed the machine until it came to a stall still buried in Connor’s ass.

“You’d think,” he said softly, his voice dangerously quiet, “that I don’t give you enough attention.”

Connor’s shoulders trembled as the last dribbles of come fell to the bed. He knew Anderson expected a response, but he’s too addled to come up with any answer that wouldn’t land him in even hotter water.

“To that end,” a dull vibrating sound filled the air and it took Connor’s jumbled brain half a second to realize it’s coming from inside him, “I intend to give you as much attention as you can handle.”

Connor mewled an overwhelmed sound, jerking in sensitivity as the attachment hummed weakly inside him. It’s not unbearable, but, so soon after getting off, any touch is _a lot_. Anderson waited patiently, well aware Connor needed at least ten minutes to recuperate enough to handle sensual touch. Connor tried to keep quiet to buy himself more time, but his whines transformed into uncontrollable needy whimpers and he writhed around the devices embedded in him.

Oily lubrication ran between his cheeks as the machine clicked back into life. Anderson pressed a remote into Connor’s bound hands, “I’ll be in the living room while you think over your behavior this evening. You can call out to me if you need to stop or you can use this kill switch if you need immediate assistance.”

Connor’s fingers gripped the remote like a lifeline and he howled when Anderson ramped up the speed once more. It’s a delectable agony as the attachment rams him without straining as a human would. It doesn’t need to conserve energy or feel the burn of contracting muscles. It hammered into him, the vibrations never ceasing. Connor moaned, low and deep, into the mattress as the door clicked shut behind him.

Anderson poured himself a finger of whiskey and waited. He took a sip when Connor wailed out his title. No plea to stop followed so he took another sip more. Part of him wanted to stay and watch Connor whimper and squirm beneath the machine’s punishing ministrations, but he knows himself too well. He would break. He goes soft for Connor, more prone to cave to his desires than he was for anyone else who came before him.

So he listened instead, ignoring his own swelling erection in favor of drinking in the sounds of Connor’s sensual destruction. It’s finer than the whiskey in his glass.

When he walked back into the room, asked Connor to be good, his throat constricted at Connor’s eager nod. Connor was always good for him, sweet beyond belief when not acting like a right brat.

“Touch me, _please_ ,” Connor begs in a pathetic whisper, tugging at Anderson’s attention. “Anywhere.”

Anderson eyes him, reining in his own desires to take over for the machine beating his fiancé’s prostate into submission. Eventually, he settles on resting his hand on the small of Connor’s back.

His smile is a wicked, dangerous thing, “Of course, Connor. Since you asked so nicely.” He guides Connor back to meet the machine’s thrusts and he shrieks out a beautiful scream that sounds a great deal like _HANK_ but without the vowel. Come splatters the bedding, repainting it in creamy white ropes. The added force had tipped Connor over the edge and he sobs through the rest of his orgasm as Anderson reduces the pace of the machine.

Connor’s legs shake as Anderson delicately pulls the toy out, pushing it away. Connor’s abused, puffy hole gapes at the loss and Anderson makes a mental note that Connor is likely to be out of commission for several days. He runs warm palms up Connor’s spine, turning him to rest on his side as he unbinds his hands and unties the leash. He leaves the collar.

He rubs at the markings the binding left behind from Connor’s thrashing and tugging. Working the soiled blanket out from under Connor, he drapes a new blanket over him. It’s soft and clean; it smells like Anderson’s cologne and Connor burrows into it.

Connor shakes his head when Anderson holds out a water bottle, but Anderson coaxes him to drink some anyway. He takes small sips at first, but winds up gulping down the entire bottle the longer it’s in his hands. Anderson frowns in thought as he runs a heavy palm down Connor’s blanketed flank. Connor freezes when Anderson rises and starts to unbutton his shirt.

“I can’t,” he says it in a panicked whisper and Anderson shushes him. He slips under the covers and Connor rockets into his embrace before he can even make the offer. Connor’s skin is damp and starting to cool. His heart rabbits against Anderson’s ribcage and his hand shakes when he lifts it to rest on Anderson’s chest.

Anderson touches the band resting on Connor’s finger. A tiny part of his brain knows Connor would never stray. Connor loves him and, God help him, he loves his brat more than air itself. Still, his heart had constricted and his lungs lurched to splash into his guts when he’d seen Connor touch that other man.

He doesn’t realize he’s muttering darkly about _presumptuous, asshole, part-time faculty_ until Connor’s fingers brush his lips.

“Who?” Connor asks, a tired hint of a smile in his eyes.

Anderson knows what Connor’s doing. He tightens his arms around him with a growl, “Good answer.”

Once Connor’s body temperature stabilizes, Anderson rolls him to his stomach. Connor likes light touches so Anderson trails his fingertips over Connor’s skin. He traces _I LOVE YOU_ under his shoulder blade like a secret.

Connor murmurs sleepily, “I love you, too.”

He flushes, not realizing Connor was capable of paying attention. He was usually addled after multiple orgasms back to back. He presses a scratchy kiss to Connor’s shoulder before returning to dancing his fingers across Connor’s back like graceful ice skaters on a frozen lake.

Connor inches back onto Anderson’s chest, pawing at the exposed meat of it. He can tell Connor is gearing up to explain himself. He gets fidgety and nervous in a way Anderson finds endearing.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” his voice is small and Anderson doesn’t interrupt. He’s learned it’s hard enough for Connor to get started; interruptions could derail him entirely. Connor’s well aware he didn’t just get dicked half to death because he’d _upset_ Anderson. It was bigger than that, but he needed to build up to it.

“You trust me and I took advantage of that. It was stupid. I wasn’t thinking. I was—” his voice cracks and Anderson shushes him. He tightens his arms around him to just shy of uncomfortable and Connor’s jaw quivers.

“I see the way people look at you. I’m not an unreasonable man; I know people are going to flirt. I just never thought I’d see the day where you flirted back. It hurt.” Connor’s body tenses and Anderson kisses his forehead, “I’m also aware it meant nothing to you and that I might be a little bit jealous at times.”

Connor snorts loudly and the tautness eases out of him, “Just a little bit.” Anderson can practically feel Connor rolling his eyes and he moves quickly to pin his bratty fiancé beneath his significant bulk.

“What was that?” Anderson arches an eyebrow imperiously, playfully and something sparkles in Connor’s eyes.

“Nothing, _sir_ ,” Connor’s words come out somewhat weak under the weight of Anderson’s entire body. “Just that you’re a raging jealous bull in a china shop most days.”

“You’re finished,” Anderson growls before attacking Connor’s ribs with his fingers. Connor shrieks and tries to bat away Anderson’s hands. It’s a futile effort and he’s forced to admit defeat between gasping peals of laughter.

“I give up! Hank, stop!” Anderson stops his tickle assault in favor of nuzzling and nipping at Connor’s neck. He yanks the collar up, tilting Connor’s head to expose more of his skin. He knows Connor is beyond done for the night, but he nibbles and licks a lurid spot into life high on Connor’s neck for the simple pleasure that he can.

That, and so that fuck ass professor can see it clearly when they return to work after the weekend.

“Hank, I can’t,” Connor moans, at odds with his words. Hank mumbles _I know_ before attacking the spot with his tongue and his teeth once more.

Connor swats at his shoulder when he realizes what he’s doing, “Hank Anderson, stop marking me like a dog claiming a fire hydrant.”

Anderson rises to his elbows and grins wolfishly down at Connor before snapping his teeth, “ _Mine_.”

Connor’s lips purse for a moment before lifting his head a few inches to press a soft kiss to Anderson’s cheek.

“Yours,” he agrees.

Anderson flops to his side and yanks Connor to him. He buries his face in Connor’s hair, inhaling him. This is his favorite place to be. It’s Connor’s, too. They drowse contentedly until Anderson’s alarm goes off reminding him Connor needs to eat. He hits snooze; he needs another ten minutes right here.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WorseMake).


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